


End of the World

by Mossyrock



Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo [11]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley is in a bad place, Ineffable Husbands Bingo (Good Omens), M/M, Set after Aziraphale is discorporated, cw: suicide ideation, straight up angst, tw: suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 16:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21340951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossyrock/pseuds/Mossyrock
Summary: For Crowley, it's the end of the world. And he's lost Aziraphale.He lost Aziraphale because it's the end of the world.Or it's the end of the world because he's lost Aziraphale?Set in the bar, after the burning bookshop.For my Ineffable Husbands bingo prompt - Suicide.Please read with caution. No actual physical harm comes to anyone (except mentions of Aziraphale's discorporation, but I don't know if that hurt him or not? It doesn't seem like it did so ??).
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), One Sided Aziraphale/Crowley, Or Crowley thinks it's one sided
Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1476251
Kudos: 50





	End of the World

Aziraphale was gone. Not just gone - but _gone. _The thing about being the only supernatural beings on the Earth and having spent so much time together, was they could always find each other. No matter where they went, the other could be there in an instant. Otherwise how would they be able to save each other like they had?

But when he’d run into the burning bookshop, he knew it was over. Aziraphale was gone for good. Either Heaven or Hell had found him and killed him. And now, for the first time since the beginning of time, Crowley was alone.

He hated it.

He hated everything.

He hated Hell for trusting him with the Antichrist.

He hated Armageddon.

He hated his angel for not saying yes and running away with him.

He hated that he’d Fallen.

He hated that he’d ever been created.

He hated Her.

He wanted to go back. Go back to when Aziraphale and he had been happy. Before the Antichrist. When they’d just danced around each other, subtly exchanging miracles and playing silly games. Pretending he didn’t love Aziraphale with everything he had.

Now, the world was ending, and Crowley didn’t even care. Everything he’d had to live for was already gone and he’d burned his bridges with Hell. There was no going back. He was a traitor from every side, and he had no friends left.

Whether the world ended or not, his life was over. Hell was going to find and punish him, and he knew that it wasn’t going to be pleasant. The best he could hope for was a quick death. But he wasn’t sure that was Hell’s style.

_Poor Aziraphale_. What he wouldn’t give to be with him now. He’d know what to say and what to do to make it all right. But he was dead. Crowley had never imagined that if one of them was to die, it would be Aziraphale. He didn’t deserve it. He’d only agreed to the Arrangement because Crowley had tempted him into it. And it had gotten him killed.

Fuck.

It was all his fault.

Aziraphale had given Crowley the holy water because he’d made Crowley promise he wouldn’t use it on himself. And he hadn’t. He’d kept his stupid promise. Anything for his angel.

And now he wished he could undo it and instead of killing Ligur...

He wished he’d used it on himself.

Kill himself before Heaven or Hell or anyone else had the chance. He wished he could rob them of the satisfaction. Let him go out on his own terms, as one last big middle finger.

If he could just cease to exist, the pain would stop. And there was no one who would care if he was gone now – if Aziraphale had ever cared at all.

“We’re not friends,” He’d protested.

“I don’t even like you,” He’d yelled.

“It’s over.”

It was over. He was right about that. 

But until the end came, he’d sit here in this seedy bar and drink until he couldn’t remember how much it all hurt. How much his heart had been ripped out and stomped on, leaving him an empty husk of anger and hurt. If he was human, he’d have attempted to drink himself to unconsciousness, but unfortunately, as he was a demon, that wasn’t an option.

It would take more alcohol than this dingy little establishment had on hand for him to get anywhere near drunk enough for that.

But he could drink enough until he got the courage to find himself a cosy little church somewhere and hope they had a nice little font that would have what he needed.

But alcohol first.

He startled when the image of Aziraphale appeared before him. He hadn’t thought he’d had enough to drink to be hallucinating, but here he was.

The image of the angel danced before his eyes. Whether due to the alcohol or the ghostly shimmer, he wasn’t sure.

“Aziraphale?” He’d asked, voice breaking with relief.

Discorporated. He wasn’t dead after all, just temporarily without a body. They could make it through together. They would get to Tadfield and stop the end of the world – together.

He had a purpose again. He had Aziraphale again, sort of. They would be OK.

Everything would be OK.

**Author's Note:**

> This is super short and sad. It's not my usual sunshine and rainbows and our ineffable idiots happily getting it together. 
> 
> I have much other, far more joyful stories, if you need a pick me up after this. 
> 
> Sorry?


End file.
